


I Need More

by MrsWhozeewhatsis (OxfordCommaLover)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 13:25:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OxfordCommaLover/pseuds/MrsWhozeewhatsis
Summary: Reader wants more than just a fling with Dean, so keeps her distance, not wanting to just be another notch on his bedpost, until something happens.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this is also posted in last year's Hiatus Challenge Work (chapter 10) with the prompt, “Is this one of those times where you want me to lie to protect your delicate emotions?” For a follower celebration over on Tumblr, my followers voted to get a second part to that one-shot. I'm posting the first part here so it's all together and makes sense for new readers.

You woke up cold and naked under just a thin, scratchy motel sheet. Your back ached a little from the hunt the day before, along with a myriad of bruises. Part of the cold was from the air coming down from the ceiling fan. The A/C was broken, and you’d turned on the fan two days before trying to get cool. Sam had bitched as his research went flying in the breeze, but you hadn’t cared. Now, you were cold, since the heat wave had broken the day before. As you shifted to get up and turn it off, you found more aches, but they were the good kind. They were the aches caused by Dean Winchester.

The Winchesters met you interviewing witnesses on a case so many years ago, you couldn’t remember. Dean’s eyes had captivated you before he’d even had a chance to introduce himself, and when you finally got your act together, you saw how Sam rolled his eyes. Dean flirted with you outrageously, and Sam just sighed and shook his head like Dean did this all the time. The signs all said to keep away, so you did. Every time you ran into the brothers, you kept away from Dean. Sam became a good friend, and the two of you spent many nights drinking and chatting in bars while Dean made conquest after conquest.

Sam had once asked you why you never flirted back when Dean would so obviously proposition you. He could tell you had feelings for his brother, and he knew his brother wanted you, so why didn’t you go for it?

“I’m not a notch in someone’s belt, Sam. I’m not a conquest he can add to his list of kinky fucks in one-horse towns. If he wants me, he’s got to want all of me, not just what he can use and throw away. I need more.” Your eyes locked onto Sam’s and he nodded.

Years passed, the brothers got the bunker, and they invited you to stay. You would visit, but nothing more. Sam was hurt. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t just use the bunker as a home base. Even if you didn’t go on hunts with them, at least you’d be safe.

“Sam, it’s too much. I can’t just be friends with benefits, and if I’m around all the time, that’s what would happen. I’d eventually give in, he’d hurt me the next time he picked up a bar skank, and then I’d lose both of you. Believe me, it’s better if I don’t stay.”

“Y/N, promise you’ll come here if you ever need a break. Don’t stay away when you need help out of stubbornness, okay?” Sam grabbed your hand and begged you using his fiercest set of puppy eyes.

“If I ever need to heal up or something, you got it. I’ll be here.”

Sam put his arms around you and kissed your temple, whispering his thanks into your hair. The arrangement worked out well for you. You did have to stay in the bunker a couple of times after particularly rough hunts, but other than that, you lived your life and they lived theirs. Occasionally, there were hunts you worked together, but you kept your distance from Dean and his flirty looks.

This hunt, though, was bad. Sam had gotten knocked out by a serious blow to the head, and wouldn’t wake up. Dean had driven like his ass was on fire to get Sam to the nearest hospital, and you had spent hours waiting to hear that he was okay. Sitting on uncomfortable chairs in the emergency room, you had held Dean’s hand while your eyes searched the faces of every passing doctor or nurse for news. After a while, Dean had jumped up and started pacing, then kicking at chairs in the room. Wanting to stop him before he hurt himself or someone else, you got up and threw your arms around him. He melted into your arms, accepting comfort from you without his usual macho bravado. When he finally let go, he suddenly looked at you with alarm.

“God, Y/N, you got tossed around, too. Are you okay?” His hands suddenly moved over your shoulders and down your arms, inspecting you as you stood, leaning slightly to the left because of some aches in your back.

“I’m fine, Dean. Nothing a few days off and a decent bed won’t fix.”

He searched your eyes for signs you were lying, and when he found none, he crushed you in his arms. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you or Sam. You two are everything to me.”

Being so close to Dean, hearing his words and feeling his body pressed against yours, you warmed up quickly. This was almost everything you’d ever wanted from Dean. You needed to get away.

The doctor interrupted just in time, letting you both know that Sam was fine, and had regained consciousness. All his tests were clear, but they wanted to watch him overnight to be sure. He led you both to Sam’s room, and you got to see him with your own eyes. He was going to be okay.

The drive back to the motel was quiet. You were already mentally packing your bag to run away, not even noticing that Dean wasn’t blaring his music because you were so focused on how you just needed to leave. He’d gotten too close this time, and you needed to get away and clear your head and remind yourself that Dean could only hurt you.

The motel door slammed shut, and Dean grabbed your arm, spinning you around until your back was to the door and he was pressed against your front. One second you were considering how many hours you could drive before you’d need either gas or a bathroom, and the next second Dean was kissing you. His lips were on yours, hard and unyielding as he overwhelmed you with his tongue thrusting into your mouth. The little part of your brain that wanted to fight was quickly drowned out by the rest of you as Dean pressed his thigh between your legs, putting pressure on your clit through your jeans. His hand roughly kneaded your breast through your clothes while his tongue… fuck, his tongue… you never stood a chance.

By the time he finally came up for air, you were winding up to come while he was rutting his rock hard cock into your hip. It was wild and breathless, both of you panting and moaning, curses flying. Dean’s lips latched onto your neck and as he sucked a bruise in that spot that made you crazy, you surprised both of you by coming hard and fast.

“Fuck, yes, Dean!” Your body locked up in pleasure as he rocked against you. When you started to come down, Dean’s hold relaxed a little. Opening your eyes, you saw nothing but dark green as he stared at you.

“Did you just…?” His voice sounded as wrecked as you felt.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded, feeling your cheeks flood with heat.

Dean closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. “Fuck, you’re even better than I thought.” His lips were on yours again, but his arms pulled you from the door and soon you were laid out on the bed, Dean over top of you. “I need you so bad, Y/N,” Dean said, pressing the words into your skin as he littered kisses along your neck. “I’ve needed you for so long, you have no idea.”

You never got a chance to question his words, because your clothes were removed in a flurry, followed by his, and his mouth was between your legs. Two fingers inside of you and his lips sucking on your clit brought on your second orgasm so fast your head was spinning. Before your aftershocks were finished, he had the condom in place and was pushing into you slowly with a deep groan that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Dean, fuck,” was all you could say as your body reacted to the welcome intrusion. It was better than you’d ever imagined, and you had taken plenty of chances to imagine over the years. Neither of you lasted long after he started to move, building up an almost frantic pace as you raced each other to the finish line. One swipe of his thumb over your clit set off another orgasm, and you clamping down on him set off his. He came with a shout of your name while you panted and moaned.

You nearly passed out from the exhaustion of the hunt, the stress of the hospital, and three mind-blowing orgasms. Dean got you both cleaned up, and no sooner was your head nestled into his shoulder than you were out like a light.

And now you were awake, alone.

Dammit.

The bed was cold, so Dean had left a long time ago. Looking around the room, you saw no note, no bag, no sign of Dean at all. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fully realized that you were just another outlet for stress relief for Dean, after all. Everything you had tried to keep from happening all these years had just happened, anyway, and you were screwed.

You didn’t stop to comb your hair or brush your teeth or even pee. You needed to get out of there. Throwing on your clothes from the day before, you got dressed in record time, tossing your meager belongings into your bag as you went. You weren’t sure why you were rushing since Dean obviously wasn’t coming back, but you ran like demons were after you, anyway.

Your bag was in the back seat of your car and you were opening the front door when you heard the Impala pull in beside you. Dean’s voice stopped you in your tracks as he said your name.

“Y/N?” He got out of the car and stood, looking at you over the roof of his Baby. “What, was last night so bad you have to leave without saying goodbye?” he joked. You didn’t want to look at him because you knew if you did, you’d break, but you had to.

Steeling yourself for the onslaught of his eyes, you turned to him with what you hoped was a playful smile. “Um, is this one of those times where you want me to lie to protect your delicate emotions?”

Dean’s face fell just a fraction, and part of you was glad you could make him feel just a little bit like the way he was making you feel.

“No worries, Dean. I’ve just got a hunt two states over that needs me ASAP,” you lied. “Garth called, so I’ve got to go.” Turning away, you got into your car and shut the door. The car started easily, probably because of all of the work Dean had put into her for you over the years. The thought that you’d have to find a new mechanic sent a bolt of pain through your heart and you fought the tears again. You managed to screw your face into something like a smile and wave at Dean as you pulled out of the parking lot and got onto the road. You didn’t stop until the car was almost running on fumes, and then you only gassed up and kept going until the tears blurred the road too much to keep driving.

Two hours after you peeled out of the motel parking lot, a maid opened the door to your room and gasped. The room was completely trashed. Lamps were broken, the mattress was flipped, two legs on the table were splintered, and the TV was lying face down on the floor a good ten feet from where it usually sat. Sitting on the nightstand, one of the pieces of furniture that were actually nailed to the floor and therefore not tossed or broken, was a couple hundred dollars in cash and note that just said, “Sorry.”

The maid tutted as she pocketed the cash and began cleaning up broken glass and debris. After a half hour of solid cleaning, she finally made it into the bathroom, which had thankfully been left untouched. On the sink was a note.

_Y/N,_

_Went to go check on Sam. Didn’t want to wake you because you looked so beautiful and peaceful. I’ll be back with breakfast soon._

_I know you always said living in the bunker wasn’t for you, but I’m gonna ask you again, and I hope you say yes this time. I need you in my life, and not just as a part-time friend. Please think about it and we can talk when I get back._

_Dean_


	2. Chapter 2

For the fourth night in a row, you sat on the beach with a bottle in your hand and watched the sun set. It had taken you a couple of days to get here, but you were about as far away from Lebanon, Kansas as you could get and still be in the continental US. Maybe Maine would be further than Washington, but you’d turned left out of the motel parking lot, not right, so Washington is where you ended up. The weather had turned the day before, and it was chillier tonight, with a light misty rain making you feel even colder. The storm front was almost past, though, which was how you got to see the sun fall from behind the clouds before it sank into the ocean.

Six days. Six days since you’d given in to Dean Winchester’s charms and then woken up alone. Six days since you’d turned off the GPS and sound on your phone so no one could track you and you wouldn’t have to listen to the beeps and trills when they called or messaged. Five days since you’d considered turning it off completely, but knew that would send a message all its own and just prompt whoever was calling to really look for you. Four days since you’d found the rundown motel a block from the beach and plunked down enough cash to quiet the manager about the credit card that didn’t match the name you gave him. Three days since you’d slept for twelve hours, only to wake up from a dream that Dean was knocking on your door. Three days since you told housekeeping to fuck off and not knock on your door again. The days since then had settled into a nice routine: Wake up, shower, get dressed, try to eat, buy a newspaper you wouldn’t really read (unless you counted Marmaduke and Garfield), buy booze, try to eat some more, then settle on the beach to watch the sun go down and drink the bottle dry.

The mist and the chilly breeze had you shivering tonight, though, and no matter how beautiful it made the sunset, you were in an even worse mood than previous nights. By the time the stars were out, even though the rain had stopped, you were so cold your teeth were clacking together. Sounds from a bonfire down the beach floated through the air and you glimpsed happy people dancing to music and laughing at stories. The laughter was just as annoying as the chattering of your teeth, so you gave up your new nightly ritual of watching the waves in the moonlight and walked back to your motel.

Once you were warm and dry, you sat down on the bed and stared at the TV. It didn’t work, so all you saw was your reflection on the screen, which soon irritated you further.

How did you let this happen to you? How did you give Dean Winchester so much power that he could bring you this low? What happened to the independent, badass woman who took no shit from anyone and protected herself from everything? You weren’t the type to ignore calls and texts and wallow! You faced shit head on and fucking dealt with it!

Quickly very angry, you got up with the intention of just _doing something_. The room going for a spin reminded you that you weren’t really in any shape for that, at that moment. When the room eventually settled into a gentle rocking, you made yourself a cup of coffee with the ancient one-cup coffeemaker the motel provided. The first sip made you grimace. Shit, the coffee must have been as old as the décor. You drank it, anyway, suddenly needing to be sober and in control again. You’d moped enough. Time to wake up, get up, and deal with shit.

After the last drop was down the hatch, you turned to your phone, taking a deep breath to fortify yourself. You turned on the screen and faced your messages.

32 messages and 11 voicemails.

_“First message dated six days ago, 4:54PM: ‘Hey, it’s Sam. Dean said you had a hunt and had to go. Sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. Call if you need backup, okay?’_

_“Second message dated four days ago, 10:28AM: ‘Hey, it’s Sam again. I’ve been sending texts but not getting an answer so figured I’d call. Did something happen during this last hunt? Dean’s acting off and you’re not answering. Call me, okay?’_

_“Third message dated four days ago, 3:18PM: ‘Hey kiddo, it’s Jody. Sam’s worried so he called me. Let me know you’re still breathin’, okay?’_

_“Fourth message dated two days ago, 11:47PM: ‘Y/N, it’s Sam again. Please call me back. Whatever happened, we’ll find a way to fix it. Please.’_

_“Fifth message dated yesterday, 9:24AM: ‘It’s Sam. Dean told me what happened and Garth told me there’s no hunt. I don’t know what to say. Please, just call me so we can talk. Or, if you don’t want to talk, just text me to let me know you’re okay and not dead in a ditch somewhere. I think we can fix this, but only if you talk to us.’_

_“Sixth message dated yesterday, 9:25AM: ‘Hey Y/N, it’s Garth. I just got a call from Sam looking for you and now I’m worried. Call me when you get this, okay?”_

_“Seventh message dated today, 9:05AM: ‘Y/N, it’s Jody. Sam called again and now I’m worried. You have twenty-four hours to call me, no texting, I need to hear your voice, or I’m putting a BOLO out on you. We just need to know some monster hasn’t gotten you.’”_

The rest of the voicemails were hang-ups from either Sam or Jody, and the text messages were all similar to the voicemails. You looked over the messages, seeing all their worry spelled out right in front of you, and felt like a first-class heel. You sent off a quick text to Jody to tell her you were okay, and two minutes later your phone rang. It took five minutes of convincing her you weren’t being held captive or somehow under duress, but she finally believed that you were okay. She offered to listen if you needed to talk, but you weren’t quite ready for that, yet. You promised to call when you _were_ ready, which was the only way she’d let you off the phone.

The call ended and you stared at the screen. Jody would tell Sam you were fine, you didn’t need to tell him yourself. At least, that was the lie you wanted to believe so you wouldn’t have to make the call. While you were working up the nerve to text Sam, your phone rang, and it was him.

“Hey, Sam,” you murmured, nerves taking over your voice.

“Oh, thank God, Y/N, I’m so glad to hear your voice!” Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and yelled in the background. “Dean! She answered!”

Heavy footfalls echoed in the background. “She’s okay?” you heard Dean ask, slightly breathless from his run.

Sam pulled the phone back to his mouth. “You’re safe, right? Jody said you’re okay, and it’s not like Poughkeepsie or that job we had in that one funky town, right?”

You almost smiled. “I’m safe, Sam. No one’s got me prisoner or anything. Just needed a few days of quiet time, that’s all.”

Sam shifted the phone again. “She’s safe, Dean. Hunt’s done, monster’s dead, just bruises.”

“Good,” Dean replied in the background. “Then I’m going to bed. Good night.”

Sam tossed a response away from the phone and then waited a moment before returning to your conversation. “I didn’t tell Dean that there wasn’t a hunt because I figured you had a reason for telling him that. So, now that he’s gone, tell me. Why did you lie to Dean and run away?”

Tears stung your eyes. “Because I was an idiot, Sam, and I let happen the one thing I always swore I would never let happen. I slept with Dean and woke up exactly like I thought I would: alone. I couldn’t let him see how much he hurt me, Sam, because it’s not his fault. I knew what I was getting into. I knew what would happen.” You wiped wetness from your cheek. “Do you know the old fable about the frog and the scorpion?”

“I think so,” Sam replied.

“The frog takes the scorpion across the river, but the scorpion stings the frog, anyway, because that’s just what scorpions do. I slept with Dean knowing he’d leave because that’s just what Dean does, and I can’t blame him any more than you can blame the scorpion. I’m the stupid frog, Sam. I should have known better.”

The line was quiet while you sniffled and Sam sighed.

“Are you sure he left that morning?” he asked. “Like really left, and not just went to run an errand?”

Your surprise at Sam’s question made you shift on the bed. “What do you mean, am I sure? I woke up and he was gone! Bags were gone, no note, no nothing! He _left_ , Sam!”

“Okay, but then why did he go back?”

Your world screamed to a stop like a record player after someone pulled the plug. “What?”

“You said he left, but you obviously saw him long enough to lie to him about Garth sending you on a hunt. That means he came back, right?”

Words stuck in your throat while your brain stuttered. “Wha-… but… I mean… what?”

“I don’t think he left you like you think he did. I mean, that morning, he came to the hospital to check on me and brought me my duffel bag so I had clean clothes and my shaving kit and everything. He came into my room in a great mood with a smile on his face but all he’d tell me was he had a really good night. The doctors wanted to do some follow-up tests before they released me, so he said he’d be back later. When he came back, he was pissed off about something, but wouldn’t tell me what. I had to endure Metallica at top volume the entire drive back to the bunker.” Sam paused, and you could almost hear his bitch face. “So, I think that means he didn’t leave you like you think he did.”

There was obviously still some alcohol in your system because it took forever for your brain to catch up with what Sam was saying.

“But… he didn’t leave a note! All the bags were gone!”

“Maybe he thought he’d be back before you woke up?”

Stunned silence. What if you were wrong? What if he had come back for you? There were so many possibilities.

“I have to go, Sam. I need to think about this. Even if he came back for me, that’s no guarantee he wanted me as anything more than a fuck buddy, and I can’t do that. I care about him too much for that, Sam.”

“Okay. I understand. Just think about it. And you can always call me to talk, day or night, you know that.”

“Thanks, Sam,” you muttered before hanging up the phone and dropping it onto the comforter in front of you.

No sooner had you flopped back onto the pillows than your phone was chirping with a text message. You picked it back up with a groan, then held it in front of your face while your head was halfway buried in the pillow.

_Garth: Why aren’t you responding? Why is your GPS turned off?? If I don’t hear from you in the next 12 hours, you’ll have me and every hunter I know coming for you! Ya idjit!_

A smile danced on your lips for the first time in days. Garth was always good to you, keeping tabs on you in case you ran into trouble and helping you to find cases when you couldn’t find your own. You’d even spent some time with his pack and helped him clear out an invading pack that didn’t agree with Garth’s no-kill policy. Garth was a good friend and didn’t deserve you shutting him out.

_You: I’m sorry. Just needed a break for a few days without people bugging me. I’m fine. If you’ve got a case for me, let me know._

***

Two days later, you were in the tiny town of Torrey, Utah, looking into the grisly deaths of some tourists who’d been camping in the nearby national park. Several campers had gone missing in recent months, but this was the first set of bodies discovered. The locals thought it was an animal attack, with whatever animal preferring to chow down on organ meat since several organs were missing from each body, but you’d noticed clean cuts beneath the claw marks. You suspected something was using claws to cover up the actual kill method but hadn’t figured out more than that based on just one trip to the morgue. Whatever it was, it was throwing clues pointing to all kinds of different monsters, possibly to throw you off. You needed to interview families and witnesses, not to mention heading into the park yourself, but it was getting late, so you headed to the deli/bakery that was attached to your motel. After a good sandwich and a piece of pie that just made you nostalgic, you decided to call it a night and sack out in your room.

You were doing your third verse of the hokey pokey with your room key card, mumbling about how it would probably be faster to just pick the damn lock, or shoot it out even, when you heard his voice behind you.

“Hey, Y/N.” Dean’s voice was barely loud enough for you to hear him over the crickets chirping, but you still caught the tremor in it.

You froze for a second, a quiet gasp filling your lungs. It was just enough time for the stupid door lock to finally register that the key card was valid and then lock again before you could turn the handle. Without thinking, you growled at the door, giving it a pound with your fist. Although vandalizing property was a tempting option at that moment, you decided to deal with Dean, instead. A deep sigh settled your twisting stomach as you turned around to see Dean standing a few feet away, looking as attractive as ever even in the unforgiving fluorescent porch light.

His shoulders were up, his head was down, and his hands were shoved so deeply into his pockets you were amazed his fists hadn’t burst through them. He wasn’t exactly looking at you so much as glancing around the dark parking lot with his head ducked and occasionally letting his eyes pass over your general direction. Seeing him look so… nervous… just took away any wind you might have had in your sails. You’d now had two days to think about what Sam had said, as well as what you had said to Dean before you’d left, and you felt about two inches tall. You suddenly wished you had pockets you could shove your hands into, as well.

“Hey Dean,” you tried to say, but it came out more like a nervous mumble than a friendly welcome. You cleared your throat and tried the whole talking thing again. “I am so--”

“Sam told me--” Dean started at the same time that you did.

You both stopped and gave each other nervous smiles, heads still ducking, weight shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. From the outside, it probably looked like some kind of intricate dance for introverted nerds.

You waved at the door. “If I can ever get this stupid thing to work, do you want to come in and talk?”

Dean’s face lit up, sending a warm feeling to calm the butterflies in your gut. He had an almost cocky gleam in his eye, even though his smile was still wavering a bit. “Yeah. I’d like that,” he said, his voice stronger now that his shoulders had dropped a couple inches.

The key card worked this time, first try, and you both entered the tiny room. You were only halfway in the door when you saw a body sitting on your bed that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left. A quick shove from behind sent you tumbling onto the bed yourself. As you struggled to catch yourself, the lights came on in the room and you recognized the person bound and gagged next to you.

“Dean???”

_Shit. Shapeshifter._

The Dean on the bed managed a muffled groan, his eyes wide with alarm and darting frantically between you and the Dean that was locking the door. You rolled off the bed, landing with your feet solidly on the ground, ready to fight off whatever would come at you. A quick feel around the back of your waistband confirmed that whatever had shoved you into the room had also grabbed your gun, leaving you with only your assorted knives in all of their hiding places.

There wasn’t time to get at any of them, however, before Not-Dean was coming at you, gun emptied and tossed aside, fists flying. You fought hard, but the shifter was bigger and stronger than you, and he’d gotten a download of information from Dean on all of your weaknesses. Soon, you were overpowered, head fuzzy from too many blows, and on your knees, the shifter holding you by your hair while you tried to make the room come back into focus. Dean was furious, eyes fierce and face red, the cords in his neck standing out as he pulled on the ropes that tied his wrists to the rusty iron bedposts behind him.

That’s when the monster decided to monologue.

“You know, I came here just to find a Wendigo and see if a story an old shaman told my grandmother was true. So, I did your job for you, trapped a Wendigo, and had myself some Wendigo heart stew for lunch. And you know what? The old shaman was right! Mix the right hoodoo with the right organs from the right monster, and you can get all kinds of neat results!”

The room stopped spinning despite the shifter’s hold on your hair, and you carefully worked one arm behind you to reach for the silver knife in your boot. The trick would be to hide your intentions by continuing to look like you were ready to pass out. While you kept your hand out of his sight, you rolled your eyes at the shifter and scoffed with a pained wince.

“Really? You ate a Wendigo? Isn’t that a little ironic?”

The shifter yanked on your hair, making you wonder how expensive wigs were these days, and suddenly Not-Dean was growling in your face, making you grimace at his stench. “Ironic or not, it definitely gave me an upgrade.” He wiggled the fingers of his free hand in your face, and you watched as the nails grew into the sharp claws of a Wendigo.

Shoving down your panic at this new development, you tried to keep him talking until you could free your knife, still pretending you were too weak to move.

“So, the campers in the park… they were what, dessert?”

The shifter laughed as he tugged hard on your hair yet again and turned away from you to judge Dean’s reactions. The way he was standing gave you all the space you needed to grab your knife without him seeing. “Just a test run of my new powers. Oh, they didn’t even know what hit ‘em!” He kept on laughing like he’d told the funniest joke at the party while you continued inching your fingers into your boot. “You know, I just came here on a whim, and now I’ve got these amazing new abilities AND I have Dean Winchester and his little girlfriend in my pantry! I’m fucking awesome!”

He leaned down to get in your face again, giving you a blast of necrotic halitosis that made you want to bring up your dinner and momentarily stopped your hand. “Do you know, he was so nervous about coming here to talk to you? He was afraid you’d be mad at him for tracking you down, almost stalking you, or that you’d still be mad for the way he left you the last time, no matter what Sam told him.” The face in front of you was so smug you wanted to rip it off, even if it was Dean’s. “He was so surprised when you—well, it was me because I was waiting here for you while you enjoyed your dinner, but you know what I mean—when you overpowered him and tied him up, he didn’t even fight! He didn’t want to hurt you, bless his little stupid heart! He thought you were possessed! Tried to exorcise me!”

The knife was in your hand, now, and you were looking for your chance. While the shifter laughed about Dean trying to exorcise him, you reached behind him and slashed at the back of both of his ankles. With both of his Achilles tendons cut and burning from the silver, he crashed to the floor screaming in agony. In his pain and surprise, the hand holding onto your hair tugged you down with him, but once he hit the floor, he let go. You rolled away from him, preparing yourself for another attack, but he was too busy writhing and wailing.

Seeing your chance, you pounced on the shifter, plunging the silver knife into his heart. He almost looked surprised, but then his face relaxed and his final breath left his body.

It took you a minute or two of sitting and staring at the body before you were convinced it was dead. Muffled noises from the bed eventually brought you out of your exhausted stupor and you got up to take care of Dean. You pulled your knife from the body, wiping it off on its shirt, then stumbled around the bed to cut Dean’s ropes. While he freed himself, you collapsed onto the mattress.

Dean was leaning over you, checking out your injuries, holding his warm hands to your face and neck while he looked you over. “Damn, Princess, you had me worried there for a minute.”

You met his gaze and tried not to melt under the affection you saw in his eyes. Everything you’d wanted to say to him for the past couple of days bubbled up and started spilling out of your mouth. “I’m so sorry about what I said before I left. I didn’t mean it, any of it. I was scared and hurt and just wanted to run away.”

Dean’s hands slid around behind your shoulders and he pulled you to his chest where he held you close. The beating of Dean’s heart was comforting against your ear. You couldn’t imagine a better place in the entire world than in Dean’s arms and that thought almost kept you from hearing his words. “Sam told me you never saw my note, so I get it. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“You left a note?”

“Yeah. I did.” Dean’s heartbeat picked up. “Left it in the bathroom so the fan wouldn’t blow it away. Told you I was checking on Sam and getting breakfast and I’d be back soon.”

With a groan, you turned your face into his chest, wanting to hide there forever. “I never went into the bathroom. That’s why I never saw it. I’m so sorry, Dean!”

Dean pulled you away from his chest, cupping your face in his hands so you couldn’t avoid his eyes. “It’s okay. We’re past it, now. We can forget about it and start over, right?”

The fear flashed in his eyes so quickly you would have missed it if you’d blinked; he was just as scared of this as you were. You nodded, enjoying watching the tension bleed out of him as his mouth turned up into a wide grin. He then smashed that grin into yours, both of you trying to kiss and smile at the same time.

When you finally came up for air, the stiffness and aches in your body reminded you of the dead shifter on your floor.

“I think we need to burn this body to be safe, since he’s part Wendigo, now. And then we should get the hell outta Dodge before the maid sees this mess.”

Dean agreed, and the two of you cleaned up the room, wrapping the body in wrinkled motel sheets and stuffing it in the trunk of the Impala. You hung up the Do Not Disturb sign and the two of you headed out to burn and bury the evidence.

When the flames were burning high in the hole Dean had dug, you sat on the cooler a few feet away, watching Dean stare into the fire. He seemed lost in his thoughts and you wondered what he was thinking about. Filling in the hole didn’t involve much joking or conversation, and the drive back to the motel was quiet as the first faint light of dawn appeared over the horizon. In fact, Dean didn’t speak again until all your things were packed away and you were shutting the motel room door behind you.

“Hey, Y/N?” Dean said, his voice catching on your name while he shuffled his feet in the gravel next to the Impala.

“Yeah, Dean?” You walked over to your car and tossed your bag into the back seat before turning back to look at Dean.

“I know Sam’s always bugged you about moving into the bunker, and you’ve always said it wasn’t your style.”

The morning air was so quiet and still, you thought the pounding of your heart might echo between the buildings and accidentally wake the neighbors. “Yeah?”

Dean shuffled a bit more, running a hand through his hair and down over his face, his other hand shoved into his pocket. “Well, now that we, you know….”

As nervous as you were, wondering what Dean was going to say, you had to stifle a giggle at Dean being obviously even more anxious.

“Yeah, Dean?” you prodded quietly, moving closer to him so you could touch his arm.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d reconsider moving into the bunker. I’d really like to have you around as more than just a part-time friend.” He finally looked up at you and saw the smile on your face. Your smile made him brave, and he stepped into your space, lightly running a hand up and down your arm while he looked into your eyes. “In fact, I was wondering if you’d be willing to consider joining us full-time.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, not just hunting, but, you know, being with me.”

Considering the beating your face had taken, you were surprised you could smile as widely as you did.

“You want to try being with me? Just me? No flings, just the two of us?”

Dean’s face flushed and it was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. The pink in his freckled cheeks really set off the green in his eyes. “Yeah, Y/N. Just you and me. I know I’m no prize, and I can’t say I’ve ever done something like this before, but I’d like to give it a shot if you would. I’d like to try being, you know, _more_.”

Pushing yourself into his arms, your mouths were close enough to kiss. Dean debated it for a second before tightening his arms around you and keeping you close, your face nuzzling into his chest, right where his heart was. It was the warmest, safest embrace you’d ever known.

“Yeah, Dean. I’d like _more_ , too… very much.”


End file.
